


i'll be looking at the moon

by crashing_meteors



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:26:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29038611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crashing_meteors/pseuds/crashing_meteors
Summary: but i'll be seeing you-Hevy, Cutup, and Droidbait leave their fallen brothers behind on the Rishi moon, and they can't help but feel like this is the wrong way around.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	i'll be looking at the moon

They’re not the same, after Rishi.

The Jedi generals award them with three identical medals - for valor, they’re told. It doesn’t feel like valor, though. It just feels like getting lucky.

Droidbait doesn’t remember the battle - he’s told he shot better than he ever has, than they ever knew him to be capable of. Even the captain had remarked on his skill, and Rex isn’t easy to impress. The 501st medic (they’re part of that legion, now) tells him the memory loss is probably from the concussion he suffered after the droids electrocuted and dropped him outside the base.

“Huh,” Droidbait says numbly. “Didn’t know you could go on fighting with a concussion that bad.” The medic, Kix, rubs the back of his neck, grimacing a little.

“You can’t, usually,” Kix says quietly, looking Droidbait right in the eyes. “Blacking out like that, it’s also associated with PTSD.”

“Clones don’t get PTSD,” Droidbait says automatically. Kix doesn’t argue with him - just nods and signs off on the paperwork declaring him fit for combat. They don’t meet each other’s eyes for the rest of the day.

-

-

-

Cutup gets along just fine, thanks very much. He goes on telling jokes and dreaming of Coruscant girls and keeping up the Scottish accent. The 501st is completely divided on whether it’s fun or annoying.

“Would you shut the hell up?” Jesse says irritably as he listens to Cutup gloat over winning yet another round of sabacc. He can’t stand the lilt in Cutup’s voice on a regular day, but they’ve been stuck in the ship for over a month now without any action, and he’s just lost 20 credits (a decent chunk, for clones). It’s insufferable at this point.

“Not my fault you’re shite at cards,” Cutup trills, collecting his credits. Jesse winces so violently Kix momentarily thinks he’s having a seizure.

“Oh, give it a rest,” Jesse growls, jabbing his finger in Cutup’s face. “We get it, you’re original. Isn’t the beard enough? Are you that fucking desperate for attention?”

Cutup’s smile sits in place without reaching his eyes, like the ghost of a grin that doesn’t quite know how to move on. Hevy puts his hand out in front of Cutup’s chest instinctively and presses back just slightly, raising the other hand to mime at Jesse to back off. Cutup just stares at Jesse with furious eyes, still smiling, even as the clone shrinks away sheepishly.

“Sorry,” Jesse mutters, meeting Cutup’s furious eyes with his own apologetic ones. Rigidly, Cutup scoops up his honest-won credits and pushes back out of the chair.

“Might as well quit while I’m ahead!” he chirps lightly, and, okay, Jesse’s really creeped out by the way his expression never falters. He waits until Cutup’s disappeared from view before asking about it.

“Can he - I mean, can he not help it?” Jesse asks, trying to be at least a little understanding about the stupid accent since it’s clearly so personal.

“No, he can help it,” Hevy says tiredly, and even though they graduated around the same time, even though Jesse’s seen far more battles than Hevy, he just sounds so much older than any of them. “Don’t worry about it - I’m just glad he didn’t punch you.”

“Punch him?” Kix repeats with a note of incredulity, exchanging a confused look with Jesse.

“Hey, I’d punch a guy who made fun of my voice, too!” Hardcase says, always quick to stand up for his brothers. “Besides, I like his accent. I think it’s cool!”

“So did Echo,” murmurs Hevy. The game resumes, and no one bothers asking who Echo was - they’ve read the tributes on the armor more than enough times.

Jesse doesn’t bring up the accent again.

-

-

-

Hevy gets along exceptionally with the 501st. Jesse and Kix think he’s hilarious, Hardcase shares his passion for weaponry, Tup is his favorite drinking buddy, and Dogma always feels he can go to Hevy with complaints. He’s patient, and firm, and brave, and just damn likable.

He also doesn’t sleep.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Rex is waiting for him on the empty bridge, gazing out into hyperspace, hands clasped behind his back.

“I wanted to thank you for the reports on the ship’s structural integrity,” Rex tells him as Hevy comes to stand at his side. “I passed them along to one of our repair droids - they said the hull will hold just fine. We’ll get it fixed next time we’re on Coruscant.”

“Of course, sir. Glad to hear it.”

“They also said they told you the same, but that you insisted on getting a second opinion.”

Hevy shuffles almost imperceptibly, standing a little taller. They get along well, him and Rex - actually, well is a bit of an understatement. They get on like a house on fire. But Hevy will stand his ground on this. He’ll always stand his ground on this.

“Better to be sure, right Captain?” Hevy says as lightly as he can, but Rex picks up the strain in his voice. “No sense in having the Resolute falling apart because we didn’t double-check.”

“And triple check, and quadruple check,” Rex says, and it takes Hevy several seconds to determine there’s no sarcasm in his captain’s voice. No pity, either. “Dogma isn’t even nearly as thorough as you.”

“Oh, don’t tell him that, sir,” Hevy says grinning. “You’d break his little heart.” Rex nods, smiling a little, before leveling Hevy with a serious look.

“Hevy, we can’t predict everything. Accidents happen. The unexpected happens. Sometimes the enemy gets the upper hand - all we can do is try to meet these things as they come.”

“All due respect, Captain,” Hevy says with far more venom than he’d intended, “but I’ve tried meeting things as they come, and all I’ve got to show for it are two of the finest men I’ve ever known turned into corpses.”

Rex doesn’t say anything, doesn’t get angry at Hevy’s tone, or look smug as Hevy realizes how insolent he’s being. He just stands there, and Hevy notes with a start the captain is waiting for him to continue.

“If I’d been more vigilant, Droidbait wouldn’t still have blackouts. If I’d taken things more seriously, Echo wouldn’t be dead. If I’d been more competent, neither would Fives. I’m not losing another good soldier because of my own shortcomings.”

“You could be the best there is, and you’d still lose good soldiers,” Rex tells him in the closest thing resembling a gentle voice that Rex can produce. “Believe me, I know. But forgoing sleep to do maintenance checks that have already been done, skipping meals to review the armory? All that’s gonna do is make you sick and tired - and maybe k.i.a.”

“Yes, sir,” Hevy says after a measured moment of silence, unable to keep himself from sounding defeated.

“Good man. Now get to the mess, and eat something for fuck’s sake. If I have to hear Kix complain about your poor health habits one more time-“

“It’s nice to know he cares, sir,” Hevy says sweetly as he leaves the bridge, laughing at the way Rex rolls his eyes. 

When he reaches the mess, he swipes some of whatever crap they're serving off of Droidbait’s plate and shovels it into his mouth, dodging a fork hurled his way, before heading to the armory to reload their blasters. Call it a compromise.

-

-

-

Seeing 99 feels a lot more like coming home than flying back to Kamino did. For the Dominoes, the clone facility harbors very few good memories, most of them being of Fives and Echo. The rest of it was abuse, and failure, and dreams of desertion.

99, though. Well, 99 sort of makes it worth it.

“Ha, look at you!” 99 says affectionately, clasping fists with Hevy as Droidbait pats the shorter clone on the shoulder. Cutup leans down to pick up the forgotten blaster rifles. “I guess you’ll be wanting your medal back?”

It’s a testament to their bond that Droidbait and Cutup aren’t even surprised to hear that Hevy gave 99 his medal. Looking back, they each wish they’d done the same.

“Nah, keep it safe for me,” Hevy says, releasing 99’s hand to throw an arm around his shoulder. “Bet you wear it better anyway.”

99 grins broadly, allowing Cutup to give him a playful nudge.

“You, ah, you three...” The older clone hesitates, unsure how to proceed.

“Echo and Fives didn’t make it,” Droidbait says a little stiffly, but he softens at 99’s expression. “They died bravely - we owe them our lives.”

“I’m sorry, boys, really,” says 99, and for the first time since losing their brothers, the Dominoes actually believe someone’s condolences. “I’m glad you three stuck together - we all need our brothers, you know.”

“Eh, I don’t know about this one,” Cutup says conspiratorially, making exaggerated gestures toward Hevy. Hevy shoves him.

“Yeah, care to replace him 99?” asks Droidbait, and the way 99’s eyes light up has them considering smuggling him on board the ship when all’s said and done, if only so he can see the stars.

“Oh, no,” 99 says laughing, “I could never do that to my brother.”

-

-

-

“Hevy, I'd like to speak with you,” Commander Cody says to him. The day is won - they’ve kept Kamino out of Separatist hands, they’ve managed to salvage some of the technology from the debris, and Hevy and the rest of Domino Squad are going to be made ARC troopers. He should be happy.

99 would be so proud.

“Sir?”

“I know you were...close, with 99. He’s being given a proper service, of course, but we found your medal on his person.”

“I’d like for him to keep it-“ Hevy says quickly, but Cody silences him with a hand.

“I guessed as much,” says Cody, and he’s not smiling exactly, but there’s something soft there. Something kind.

“He was a good man. The best of all of us,” Cody says, and Hevy nods sharply in agreement. “Before you begin your ARC training, I wondered if I might get your opinion on something?”

“Sir?”

“Up until now, clones with defects have been relegated to, well, to 99’s work,” the commander explains. “Maintenance and repairs, clean-up, occasionally medics on Kamino. I’ve thought for a long time that’s selling those clones short, and now more than ever I think they deserve the opportunity to fight. You spent time with 99 - would he...this sort of thing....”

Cody flounders for a moment, searching for the right words. Hevy would help him, but he doesn’t have them either. They learn a lot in combat training, but Kamino falls short when it comes to expressing emotions. Probably why the cadets get into so many fistfights.

“Is it what he wanted?” Cody says at last. Hevy considers the question seriously before answering.

“All he wanted was a squad of his own. Brothers he could depend on,” Hevy answers, remembering the fallen would-be soldier with a painful sense of fondness. “He loved us all, but he was alone, really.”

“You don’t think he’d have wanted to fight?” Cody asks him, and Hevy wonders fleetingly if he’s actually hearing anxiety in the commander’s voice.

“I think it’s pretty obvious he did want that, sir,” Hevy says carefully. “I just don’t think he knew what it entailed.”

The commander nods thoughtfully, stroking his chin the same way Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, and even Commander Tano have done so many times.

“Thank you for your input, and for all you did here today,” Cody says at last, saluting him and heading back inside the facility. Hevy sighs to himself, searching the crowd for Droidbait and Cutup. 

If it were up to him, none of his brothers would have seen a single firefight, 99 especially. Then again, without this war, where would he be? Where would any of them be? For the first time in his life, he finds himself wondering about Jango Fett.

That night, resting in bunks only slightly comfier from the ones they used as cadets, he poses a question to his brothers.

“You ever wonder about if it were the other way around, back on Rishi?” he says, heart hammering in his chest inexplicably.

“Yep,” Droidbait replies.

“All the time,” says Cutup at the same time.

“Shit,” says Hevy in surprise. “You two gotta lighten up.”

“You brought it up!” Cutup argues, throwing his pillow down at Hevy.

“You’re not getting this back,” Hevy mutters, ignoring Cutup’s agitated insistence that that’s not fair.

“It’s like we’re the wrong ones,” Droidbait says very, very quietly. They hear him, though, loud and clear.

"Speak for yourself, DB," Cutup grunts. It's probably meant as a joke, but he sounds a little too put out for anyone to laugh.

"There aren't wrong ones," Hevy says slowly, trying to process his own whirring thoughts, sounding the words out with extreme caution, as though they might lash out and bite him. "And there aren't right ones. There's just men who die and men who don't."

"Really?" Droidbait snaps. "You really think that? You think it wasn't wrong that we lived and they died, that 99 died-"

"Of course I think it's wrong," Hevy bites back, and he's so angry he gets out of bed, has to stand up and pace before he explodes. "I'm just saying, it's not - look, we lived, we just have to keep on living, do the right thing-"

"Would you stop acting like a fucking Jedi?" Droidbait hisses, and it pisses Hevy off so much he punches the side of his brother's bunk - once, twice, three times, until it starts to feel like something comparable to what's going on his head.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" Hevy roars "To say I wish it was me? I wish it was us? I'm not gonna fucking say that."

"Then I will! It should've been us! I wish it was us!" Droidbait all but screams, the words making Hevy's ears ring the same way they do after an explosion. It's deafening, the weight of it all, the way Droidbait seethes at him, so impossibly furious he's begun to drool a little. Hevy can't speak, he can't even move, he can only stare at his brother and try to make the words make sense. The silence is broken suddenly by the less-than-graceful shuffling of Cutup, who clambers down to the bunk below and lands awkwardly beside Droidbait, letting out a low "oof" as he does so.

"Oh, sorry, are we having an argument?" Cutup asks innocently, looking between Hevy and Droidbait. "Thought we were acting out a holodrama."

Half of Hevy wants to yank Cutup out of the bunk and shake him until he says something, anything, about how he feels. They all know it's just an act, the easygoing routine, they all know he has nightmares about Rishi, about Echo in particular, who shoved him out of the way of that fucking eel. 

The other half, though, the half the wins, cracks an unwilling grin and shakes his head, feeling the tension leave his body little by little. Even Droidbait heaves a sigh, wiping the saliva off the side of his mouth with one hand and shoving Cutup with the other. Cutup produces a holopad with a game of mini-dejarik, egging Droidbait into playing and eventually coercing Hevy to join them on the middle bunk. It's something they used to do, as young cadets, when they were all so excited about the glorious battles ahead they'd stay up into the night whispering until they all passed out, squished together in one or two beds. They're far too big for that, now, but they can just manage to sit upright together in a bunk, the three of them.

Droidbait wins against them each twice, which isn't unusual - it's his game of choice. Hevy's certain Cutup only pulled the thing out to try and improve Droidbait's mood, just a little. It's not until Droidbait's third win against Cutup that he mumbles out something akin to an apology.

"I never really deserved to be here with any of you," Droidbait says quietly. "I don't even know how I'm still alive. With all the time I spend worrying over dying, I just think it'd be easier if I just did already. Echo wouldn't worry like that. Fives wouldn't worry like that."

"Echo worried over everything," Hevy says, recalling with fondness the way his brother would treat routine checks like they were a sacred art. Strange, now, that that's his way of doing things now.

(Then again, maybe it's not strange at all.)

"And Fives didn't worry enough," Cutup says with a laugh. "You remember how he put those girls up on the wall, right in front of O'Niner? What the hell'd he call it-"

"'Cultural Reading'," Hevy recalls, laughing himself. "'Cause he got it from a magazine. Stupid bastard didn't even bother to check if there was text on the other side-"

"Wasn't it a perfume advertisement?" Droidbait says, grinning for the first time in weeks, and Hevy laughs so hard his chest starts to wheeze.

"'That will not pass inspection,'" Cutup says in a perfect imitation of O'Niner. "'Wait - wait, I didn't say take it down-'"

"Poor man, stuck on that base for so long," Droidbait says, letting out an undignified giggle. "Echo and I had a counter for how many times we caught him staring at them."

"You're joking," Hevy coughs out in delight.

"So did we!" Cutup hollers and they dissolve into laughter once again.

It's late, far past lights out when they finally extricate themselves from Droidbait's bunk, but even still, Hevy's eager for the morning to begin. He can't remember the last time Droidbait looked anything but empty, let alone happy. Tomorrow might be better than today, than these weeks and months at war. It'd be better with Echo and Fives here beside them, but then it'd be much worse without Cutup and Droidbait. He doesn't know how to say it, though, so that Droidbait will hear him, and really understand. It's not that he wouldn't trade them because Echo and Fives are worse, or less deserving. It's that every time he rechecks the supplies and the reports and everything else, he thanks his lucky stars he has two brothers to show for it instead of none.

"I'm glad I don't have to do this alone," is what Hevy says instead.

"Me too," Droidbait agrees quietly. It's not quite the same as him wanting to be here, but it's certainly better than nothing.

"Hey, asshole," calls Cutup. "You still have my fucking pillow."

**Author's Note:**

> Well, in case anyone was wondering, I just finished Clone Wars and I'm a mess. My favorite characters were the clones, collectively and in their own individual ways. I really loved the Domino Squad and hated how little we got to see of them after growing to care for them so much. Why, you may ask, would I choose to write a reverse au instead of an "everybody lives" au? Why would I do this to myself when I constantly pretend that the war ended peacefully with no deaths and all my clone boys are off getting into their own weird little hobbies? I don't have an answer for you, I'm just as confused as you are.
> 
> I tried to portray a feeling of wrongness among the remaining Domino Squad members. Canon divergence to this degree always strikes me as really interesting but ultimately dreamlike, and I wanted to at least have that impact the characters a little. I also wanted to be able to see the clones experience loss in some way, so this was sort of filling in the gaps of the mourning we didn't see with Echo and Fives. Still, I can't help but end things on a slightly hopeful note. The Clone Wars ending left me feeling numb, and I couldn't bring myself to evoke that same feeling here, not after they've suffered so much.
> 
> I may continue this (I have a few ideas rolling around), but considering how behind I am on other projects it probably won't be for a while. But I couldn't rest until I got this down.
> 
> Title from Billie Holiday's "I'll Be Seeing You".


End file.
